


The Tradition Continues ...

by IPaige



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cute, Easter Eggs, F/M, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IPaige/pseuds/IPaige
Summary: 3 more years in the lives of Bellamy and Clarke’s Easter Tradition, and each and every time it’s messier and they break more eggs then the time before, but it's always perfect.A continuation of another one-shot I did, 'Our Own Traditions,' but can be read as a stand-alone.





	The Tradition Continues ...

**Author's Note:**

> So someone asked me to continue ... and I honestly wasn't going to but a friend of mine nagged me until I did, anyway this is the product of that. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Clarke wakes, already expecting the trail of eggs towards the kitchen, each year Bellamy continues to play Easter bunny. And his always excited and eager as the first year Clarke found him hunched of the kitchen table, paint ready and waiting for use.

 

So like the last few years, Clarke collects the basket, (which Bellamy carefully packs away each year without ever telling Clarke where, never to be seen again until the following Easter, although Clarke is know to sometimes go looking for it), following the trail of chocolate eggs.

 

Clarke dutifully follows the trail around their living room, over the glass coffee table and around the hallway table, already knowing it leads towards the kitchen table.

 

Ready and waiting, Bellamy’s sitting at the table, his hands in his lap, his back straight-laced and ram-rod straight, he looks like an overeager school boy on his first day of school. It’s cute and endearing, if she wasn’t already head over hills in love with him, this image right here would have guaranteed it for her.

 

Bellamy’s already set up her area of the table, and is pulling out her seat in anticipation of her entrance. “Come on Clarke, you slept in.”  
  
There’s a slight accusation in his tone, as if her extra five minutes in bed were a slight against Bellamy himself.

 

To appease him, Clarke runs a hand across his shoulders, as she settles in the seat next to him. It soothes him immediately and Bellamy is relaxed and already pulling an egg towards himself to start painting. Clarke quickly follows suit, “I love Easter.”   


The statement seems to uplift Bellamy’s whole being, Clarke immediately notices and sighs, “oh great. I’ve just inflated your already large ego. Haven’t I?”

 

Bellamy mutters slightly under his breath, and Clarke swears it sounds as if he just said, _not yet._ But she can’t quite be sure, still it confuses Clarke and to remove her focus from him, Bellamy grabs the large bowl that holds that pre-drained eggs. Clarke blindly grabs for one and Bellamy has a smirk on his face.

 

Rolling her eyes, she places the egg in front of her, “you're a loser.”

 

Bellamy tugs at the mess of hair sitting at the back of her head, “Yes I am. But I’m a loser you’re dating.”

 

“What was I thinking?”  
  
“We’ll never know.”

 

Clarke is so focused on the their small back and forth, that she assumes his smirk is for their witty banter, but when she turns back, picking up a brush and holding the egg gently, she notices a small mark on the side.

 

Turning the egg gently in her hands; Clarke drops the paintbrush, there painted in soft strokes and fine lines is a small ring, with a large diamond seated on top. If Clarke were still unsure about it’s meaning, Bellamy’s body slipping out of his chair and pulling a ring case from his pocket would have clearly indicated his intension.

 

“Clarke Griffin, five years ago you dropped coffee in my lap, and while if it was anyone else I would have grumbled and mocked their apologizes and lack-luster attempt at cleaning it from my shirt and pants. You stumbled over your words, snickering at my stunned look and left me unable to do anything but laugh with you. I knew right then, that I wanted you.

 

            Four years ago, when I felt as though I was drowning and my dissertation was never-ending, I told you it was over. We both screamed and shouted and when I watched you walk away, I knew I never wanted you to go. I was ready to drop to my knees and beg for you stay, but you’d already decided to stay. Stomping around my apartment, until you finally dropped onto my couch and firmly stated that we wouldn’t end that way. You refused to let us finish like that. It was that moment that I realized I would fight every moment of my life to keep you in my world, and in my life.

 

            You’ve made into the man I am today, you’ve shown me what it means to be happy, I never thought I’d ever have a life like this but you gave it to me and I never want another day without you in it.

 

Two years ago, we started this tradition, and when I watched you smile and giggle over such a simple thing as painting eggshells, I could think of nothing else, but watching you and our children do the same.

 

There’s not a moment when I don’t see my future without you in it, and I was hoping you’d do me the honor-“ Bellamy’s hand reaches forth to open the small case in his hands, revealing a stunning and sparkly ring, “of becoming my wife?”

 

 

Clarke’s shocked and dazed, her eyes misty and hazy with tears and she has so much to say but all she can think to say is “yes”.

 

A part of her feels as though it’s anticlimactic, Bellamy’s spilled his heart out for her and she’s unable to say more then one small three letter word, but Bellamy’s already slipped the ring onto her finger and reaching up to grab her cheeks. Peppering her face with small kisses, until he locks her mouth against his, each of them aching for more from the other, moving back and forth and pulling until they feel as though they can’t get any closer.

 

 

They both forget about the egg painting for a couple hours, but when they do finally return, Clarke makes a point of picking up the eggshell with the ring painted on it and putting it in the glass cabinet found next to their dining table.

 

Bellamy gives her a self-satisfied smirk, clearly proud of himself, before happily returning to the eggshell he’d long ago abandoned when he dropped to the floor to ask for Clarke’s hand in marriage.

 

By all accounts, Easter is fast becoming Clarke’s favorite holiday all over again.

 

-&-

_2 years later – Easter Sunday_

Bellamy slips from bed, careful not to wake Clarke from her slumber. There’s a slight chill in the air, so Bellamy takes the time to pull the blankets higher around Clarke’s form.

 

She’s dead weight right now and barely even acknowledges the movement or Bellamy’s lack of presences in their bed.

 

Bellamy’s extra quiet when he moves through the living room, slipping past the TV to pick up the egg basket which his taken to hiding in different areas each year. Clarke sometimes likes to go looking for it, mostly because she knows Bellamy only wants her to have it for Easter Day, _“it’s part of the tradition Clarke, besides honestly do you need an Easter basket when it’s not Easter.”_

For a week straight Clarke had come home everyday, intent on finding it and the placing it somewhere in the house to show it’s usefulness. The first time it had replaced the bowl on the hallway table for their keys, and had at one point even become a remote holder in the living room.

 

She’d lost interest after a week, but sometimes he’ll come home and find it placed in some room for some senseless purpose, hence his need to change its hiding place. The only time he willingly let her find the basket was two days before their wedding, he’d walked in early from work, having had fifth period free, to find Clarke rummaging through a top cupboard in their kitchen.

 

 

_“Looking for something?”_

_Clarke looks like a deer caught in headlights, she’s completely frozen and Bellamy automatically knows what she’s looking for._

_“Come on Clarke, it’s tradition, its almost December, what are you going to use it for this time?”_

_Clarke slips around to sit atop the kitchen bench; she’s biting at her bottom lip and looking contrite._

_“I have a good use this time!”_

_“Oh yer,” Bellamy steps forward until Clarke’s surrounded by an arm on either side of her body against the bench. “And that would be?”_

_Now she looks a bit stunned, “well…” Clarke looks down, “I can’t tell you that.”_

_“Then I’m not telling you where it is.”_

_She’s biting at her bottom lip again and Bellamy resists the temptation to tug the lip from her teeth with his own._

_Clarke seems to sense his dilemma and wraps her legs at his waist, “maybe I could persuade you?”_

_Bellamy catches on quick and leans down until their lips are almost touching, when there’s barely a hair’s breath between them Bellamy finally responds, their lips softly touching as he speaks. “You could try?”_

_There’s a clear challenge in his voice, and Clarke is quick to rise to the challenge, grabbing at his jacket to pull him towards her._

_Later, when they’re both lax and sweaty in their bed, Clarke bites at his chin, “so…” she takes another bite at his chin, from where she lays across his form. “Where’s the basket?”_

_Groaning loudly, Bellamy runs his hand across his face, “why Clarke?”_

_It’s clear there’s slight annoyance in his voice and Clarke seems to take it at face value. She’s quietly contemplating before she responses, “I was thinking that maybe Aurora could use it as her petal basket… for the wedding.”_

_Clearly stunned, Bellamy’s unable to speak for a moment. Thinking of his little niece walking down the aisle, with the basket, tugs slightly at his heartstrings. “I think that could be arranged.”_

_Out of all the uses Clarke has created for the basket, their wedding was definitely his favorite._

Bellamy’s got the tradition down pat now, his set up the dining table, already started draining a few eggs and begun making the trail of eggs, just for fun this time he attempts to balance a few across the TV, and under the couch. It’s all set and ready, so Bellamy waits in the kitchen just like every year before.

 

When Clarke finally stumbles out of the bedroom, she’s humming softly and following the trail of chocolate eggs, she stops once to smile at him as he hovers through the entryway to the kitchen.

 

“I love doing this.”  
  
She says it basically every year, but it’s still pleasing to hear. “In that case, I guess I can continue to do it each year.”  
  
Giving him a dark look, before Clarke reaches out to swipe at the back of his head, “you kinda have to or it won’t be a tradition anymore.”

 

“Oh, I guess I’ll _have_ to.” Bellamy sneaks a grin at her and Clarke simply sighs, clearly exasperated with his dramatics.

 

They’re each quiet as the work on their own eggshell, until Clarke stumbles slightly, dropping the eggshell she’s currently working on and running towards the bathroom.

 

Bellamy’s quick to follow; only to have the door slammed in his face.

 

“Clarke! Clarke, are you alright?!”

He doesn’t receive and immediate response and Bellamy’s contemplating the quality of the door and whether one hard slam would break the door open, when Clarke finally responses. Just on the other door, Clarke’s voice floats through, “I’m okay.”

 

Bellamy still refuses to move, but waits patiently while he listens to water run until Clarke finally opens the door. She looks a bit upset and embarrassed, “you alright?”

 

“I’ve been better, sorry the smell of the paint just kinda got to me.”

 

Bellamy’s immediately concerned, worried that something his purchased is harmful. “It’s the same paint I get every year.” It’s said to Clarke, but it mostly for Bellamy’s own sense of fear, as he runs over in his mind whether the packaging had looked any different, hoping his not responsible for harming Clarke.

 

Clarke’s giving him an odd look, but doesn’t respond instead shaking her head. “Can I have some orange juice, or something to clear my mouth?”  
  
Running past the table with the paint and eggs, Clarke follows slowly behind him, stopping to drop down and pick up the eggshell she’d dropped in her haste to get to the bathroom.

 

When Bellamy returns with her drink, Clarke’s frowning slightly looking between the paint and her cracked eggshell.

 

“Clarke…” rubbing gently at her back, he leads her away from the table and instead into the living room to sit against the couch. She’s still cradling the egg within her hands, grimacing at the cracked mess.

 

“It’s okay Clarke, we still have quite a few eggs, that enough for today.”  
  
“But I want this one.”

 

Bellamy tries not to laugh at the stubborn tone to her voice, sounding much like a dismayed and restless child. “It’s okay.”  
  
“No it’s not! It was meant to be perfect.” The end of her sentence hangs in the air, and Clarke’s swiping at the tears falling down her cheeks.

 

She’s already attempting to put the pieces back together, the egg barely holding together as the cracks ran through the whole shell. “Why?”

 

She’s holding her hands out towards him, the eggshell carefully cradled in her hands so it’s unable to move and break apart any further. The egg is painted delicately, on one side of the eggshell is a small babies rattle and bottle. They’re carefully painted across the egg, clearly slowing the care and time Clarke had taken to paint them and Bellamy’s overcome with emotion at the time and energy she’s put into creating such a piece before understanding floods his being.

 

The message, emotions and reaction to the paint now making complete sense.

 

“Clarke?”

 

There’s no end to his sentence but the intent is clear, Clarke’s nodding slightly but still looks quite upset with herself.

 

“But I ruined it.”

 

Bellamy unable to process her words for a moment, but then his grinning like a madman. Wrapping himself around Clarke, “are you kidding?! This is perfect.”

 

It takes a while to convince Clarke the moment isn’t ruined, but when he carefully takes the eggshell to place in the glass cabinet next to his own from years before, she smiles slightly. It’s cracked and too much movement will definitely break it beyond repair, but for now it sits daintily in the dining room cabinet and it’s perfect.

 

 

Bellamy really loves their family Easter tradition.

 

 

-&-

 

Jake’s an unruly little toddler and at two years and four months old, he is already causing more trouble then other kids his age.

 

Clarke maintains its genetics; clearly the little boy takes after his father in both looks and personality. Aside from the tight curls that wrap around his head, Jake is an exact replica of his father, and much like his father a small smile towards Clarke will generally let him get away with anything. Which is where Bellamy concludes is the real issue, _“Clarke you have to stick to your punishments.”_

_Bellamy’s rubbing at his forehead, he knows from experience with Octavia that if you give them an inch they can run a mile. But Clarke’s pointing towards their little boy, who sitting just next to the couch, smashing large Duplo Lego buildings towards the ground_. _“But he asked so nicely to play with his Legos and he didn’t want to sit in the corner anymore.”_  
  
“Of course he didn’t want to Clarke, that’s why it’s a punishment.”

_But it’s no use, Clarke’s smitten and would give her son the world, and watching them interact, Bellamy has to admit he probably would have given in too._

Which is why when Jake’s more interested in playing with the chocolate wrapped eggs they pretty much give up trying to interest him in painting eggshells, it’s the first age, that Jake’s really understood what their doing so they’d hoped he’d be excited to paint. Bellamy had already prepared five eggshells for his use, already painted with his son’s name and year for commemoration of the event.

 

Both parents would admit to being a bit upset that their love and excitement for the tradition wasn’t apparent within their own son, but soon his chocolate covered little fingers are tugging at his mother’s pants.   


“Mama, can I see your egg?”  


Clarke dutifully complies, showing him the carefully painted egg within her hand, Jake’s hand immediately reach out to grasp it but Bellamy’s quick to grab his hands before the smash the eggshell.   
  
“Careful Jake. The egg shells are very easy to break.”

 

Jake nods quickly, hasty to assure his father that he understands. “I do one?”

 

“Of course you can bud,” Clarke nearly laughs at his term of endearment, but Bellamy pays her no mind. Quick to include their son in their tradition, while his interest is still invested in the activity.

 

The first eggshell is smashed within seconds, and Jake looks a bit stunned and instantly turns towards Clarke, near tears and looking for comfort. “Aww baby, its okay,” pulling Jake into her arms, she settles him against her chest, swiftly forcing his attention towards another egg. “Here, try this one.”

 

Clarke’s much more gentle and slow then Bellamy, and when she finally encourages Jake to create smudges with his fingers against the eggshell, she offers Bellamy a smug smile, only to be returned with a childish response of Bellamy sticking his tongue out.  

 

By the third eggshell, Jake’s much more interested in the activity and is happily chattering away as he paints. Bellamy even attempts to show Jake how they empty the eggs with the pin, but the new activity is too exciting and Jake cracks three more eggs, this time with its sticky insides sloshing over the bowls edge onto the table.

 

It’s messier then previous years and a lot more of the eggs end up in the bin then on display for Easter, but at least three of them are placed inside the cabinet next to theirs and both Bellamy and Clarke agree that it’s a perfect tradition, that neither would ever give up.

 

When they both think back to the first Easter they did this, they both agree they wouldn’t have it any other way. Bellamy defiantly got his wish about being able to continue the tradition with his own kid, he only hopes one day they can add another name or two to the eggshells in the future.

 


End file.
